Cosmatlas
by shanyray
Summary: A young girl, suffering from a plethora of illnesses, signs up for a hospital trial that might permanently alter her life. Too bad she has to die to be cured. (FRIENDFIC)
1. The Boy With The Orange Hands

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hiya, lovelies! Welcome to my fabulous friendfic! (for those who don't know what a friendfic is, its basically a fanfiction based on your friends, but I promise it'll be fun to read no matter if you're my friend or not.) PLEASE DON'T HESITATE to leave a review, follow or PM me because I can't tell you how much it excites me when people reach out like that! And you can also totally request to be in the fic, I'll find a character for you! :) I plan on keeping this going even longer than Lea Michele can hold a falsetto note (some Glee humour for all you Gleeks out there) But let's keep this Author's Note shorter than Kim Kardashian and Kris Humphrey's marriage so as not to bore y'all. So without further a due, I present to you all, Cosmatlas. **

The Boy With The Orange Hands

* * *

Chapter One.

"Last day of treatment—"

I snorted.

The nurse gave me a questioning glare. I glared right back.

"Come on now, Scarlet. This is a _good_ thing. How many times are you going to hear someone say, 'you're out'?"

"11."

"What?"

I sighed and watched as the nurse's head lifted from the IV she was fiddling with. "I've heard that 11 times. The whole 'you're out, and you're free' speech? It's nothing I haven't heard before."

The nurse's brows pulled together, forming a perplexed expression. I sighed once more and began to explain, "It's always something. A seizure as I'm about to sign the release forms. A stroke as I'm being examined before release. A fever as I'm about to walk out the doors. You name it, and I'll get it."

The nurse's confused gaze slowly turned into one of pity as she rolled in my food tray. Corn and brownies. At least it's not caramel and meatloaf. I eyed her name tag and crossed my arms over my chest defiantly, "Don't do that, Jenny."

Jenny the nurse, who was busying herself with cutting up my fabulously stale brownies, looked up so her insipid blue eyes were narrowing on mine. "Do what?"

"Don't look at me like that. Like you actually feel sorry for me," I picked up a brownie square and popped it in my mouth. "you've worked at this hospital now for what, a year? Two years? I recognize you from my 2038 remission—so you've been here a while. You're a vet here, probably desensitized to all kinds of tragedies."

Nurse Jenny opened her mouth, perhaps to try and argue, but I gripped her wrist tight before she could say anything. "I am _not_ a tragedy, Jenny."

Nurse Jenny smiled and patted the top of my head. "Whatever you say, dear."

What a fake ass bitch.

* * *

After Jenny the whore left, the room seemed a tad empty—perhaps because I wasn't accustomed to being in an area void of fake bitches.

My heart settled, but only slightly. Five days ago they told me for the eleventh time that I could leave this place—that my epilepsy was now under fair control and as long as I took my meds, I'd be fit as a fiddle in no time.

Except, I wouldn't be. I'd get another odd rash or black out for two days. History dictated my future now. No one gets this perpetually sick and comes out of it alive or "fit as a fucking fiddle".

Okay, this is getting depressing. I picked up the remote and watched as the TV flickered on. The Kardashians were fighting over something—probably who had the biggest lady-boner over Kanye. I chuckled under my breath and watched the show with content, wishing that my corn was popcorn.

* * *

"Scarlet?"

Fuck off.

"Scar? Scar, wake up."

Dear God what is it now.

"_Scarlet_."

I am going to punch you so hard your mother will feel it.

"_WHAT_?" I hissed from under my pillow. I tightened the hospital blankets around me so as to conserve the heat I had generated while asleep. I peeked out from under my pillow—no white coat or blue scrubs. Okay, not a doctor. That's a good thing.

But there's a stranger in my room. _THERE IS A STRANGER IN MY ROOM. _

I opened my mouth, ready to scream for help, when the stranger's hand clamped over my mouth. It was a little clammy and smelled of oranges.

I frowned. What sort of a sick kidnapper eats oranges before his abductions? And then, it all made sense. I raised my hand from my blankets to dig into the figure's hand and lifted it off with ease.

"_Finn?"_

The boy frowned as I sat up, fuming and flushing with red rage. He interrupted my beauty sleep—no one does that.

"It's _Finnegan_." He corrected, arching a brow challengingly at me. I knew that me calling him Finn annoyed him, but what can I say, it's the price to pay when obtaining my friendship.

I waved a dismissive hand at him, rubbing my eyes in agitation. "What in God's name brought you here at this time of night?" I yawned. "You may be the nurses' star boy, but not even you be absolved of punishment if the MD's catch you here." I shot him a questioning glare, and even in the darkness of the night, I was sure he could see my sorrel colored eyes shining with concern. Finn never risked his life like this.

At my inquiries, Finn raised his head. He had been making prolonged eye contact with my bed sheets before I had finished speaking. "The trials are starting tomorrow, Scarlet." His voice shook—and not just because he was going through puberty and his voice was constantly reaching new pitches. Finn had tears in his eyes.

I straightened up at the sound of angst in his voice and snaked my arms around his shaking body. "Hey now," I cooed in his ear. "The trials are a _good_ thing, Finn—"

"NO THEY'RE NOT!" He lurched away from me, trembling harder. "I…I saw things today, Scarlet." He shook his head, tears now streaming down his cheeks. "Things I don't think I can live with so long as I'm in this hospital."

My brows pulled together in confusion, Finn loved this hospital. It was his home. He was different than the rest of us patients, he liked his cage and never seemed to mind a life in this ivory tower.

Finn was one of the 64 in-critical-condition kids that were plucked from orphanages all across Ontario about 13 years ago—the year 2027. There are only 25 kids remaining, the rest of them taken by their diseases.

I'm one of the 25. Only 11 get to go on to the trials.

"The trials only seek to cure, Finn." I explained as gently as I could. "I'm sure whatever you saw can…can be explained."

Finn narrowed his dark brown eyes, this time he was the one fuming. "You don't _seriously_ believe that? Come on, Scar, you're the one that's always telling me we can't trust the MD's!"

"Yeah well that was before I found out that that if I get on the trials, I can finally be normal!" I crossed my arms defiantly over my chest. But Finn was right—before one of the MD's came to talk to me about the trials last month, I didn't trust a soul. I was just a tad paranoid—stealing patient charts, taking out my IV's, refusing treatments…yeah I was paranoid.

Finn shot me a sympathetic look, but the anger in his eyes didn't go away. "Scarlet, I know you're sick, probably sicker than the 24 of us, but I saw things in there—" He paused, unable to finish.

"Like _what, _Finn? A needle penetrating a place in the skin you've not seen before? A different color antibiotic, _what?_"

He shook his head at my theories and inhaled a shaky breath before answering in a traumatized quiver.

"_Monsters_."


	2. Wolves, Whores and Wards

**AUTHOR'S NOTE: Hey Whores! So, I think I doubled the content in this chapter...I hope that sustains y'all for the next week or so, but the next chapter will be coming soon! I think Scarlet's evolving beautifully, and in this chapter, Jenny is just as whore-ish as ever. But just to be clear, there is nothing wrong with being a hoe. After all, aren't we all just a couple of feeble, scared hoes stumbling through life just trying to figure shit out? Be kind to yourselves-and to Jenny. And please don't hesitate to leave a review or a message in my PM! Take care y'all. :) **

My father never read me to sleep. Before my eyes shut, I never heard the whimsical tales of other worlds being uttered quietly from a parent's mouth. Instead, I heard the hum of a machine that breathed for me, or the continuous, agitating beeps of a heart monitor. Those were my bedtime stories.

So you can imagine my surprise when Finn told me that the hospital was harboring monsters. Finnegan was always read to as a child. The nurses loved his passive and quiet stance as a patient.

I however, was what you'd call a shit-disturber. _I_ gave myself a childhood. I was the one that rummaged through the hospital's library for something to read before bed. I was the one that stole the hospital's radio from the cancer ward's playroom.

Now I know what you're thinking: stealing from a cancer ward's playroom? I know it's low, but I had a brain tumor a few years back, so technically, I should still be entitled to cancer perks.

I remember being diagnosed with something new every month. No normal kid can handle that many life altering diseases and illnesses, not even a bad ass like me. So when I'd get overwhelmed by my fucked up life, I would turn off all the light in my room, turn the radio on and tune in to the jazz station, lie down on the cold hospital floor and close my eyes. If I tried hard enough, I could almost imagine a woman who shared some of my features stroking my hair and cooing blues into my ear. Almost.

* * *

I sent Finn away. I patted him on the head, just like Jenny the hoe had done to me and sent him on his way. I explained to him that he was sleep deprived and probably just anxious to get on the trials. I told him to get some shuteye and come see me in the morning.

Except, he wouldn't. I waited for him all day long, first in my room and then in the cancer ward's playroom—we both have certain cancer perks still in tact. He never showed.

"Hiya, Jenny." I chirped.

Jenny's head lifted from the paperwork she was studying at the front desk. Her harlot red hair was disheveled today. Most of the time it was pinned up in a careful ballerina bun, but today, it looked like a damn rat's nest. She lifted a red brow before nodding in acknowledgement, "Scarlet."

I skimmed my index finger along the front desk, picking it up and observing it. A speck of dust lay on the tip of my finger. Dirty, dirty, dirty. "Where's Finn?" I asked, seemingly disinterested and casual.

Jenny shrugged lamely, straightening out her blue nurse scrubs. What a hoe. "Finnegan Sharimkey?" I nodded. "He's probably in the trial department, hun."

I blanched, stumbling both backwards and with my words, "T-the trials l-list was already p-posted?"

Jenny the whore nodded again. "If you weren't contacted by the administration this morning, I'm afraid your chances for getting on the trial are gone—"

"I know the rules, _Jennifer_." I seethed. "Where is it posted?"

Jenny shrugged didn't answer. Her boyfriend Marv was calling, and God forbid she miss a call from Marv.

First Finn and now the trials? Clearly, the universe was trying to tell me something. I just wanted the universe to shut up.

I found the trial patient list posted up outside of the ER. 11 kid's names were on the piece of ivory paper—some of them familiar and others foreign. I stopped caring about most of the 24 a long time ago.

For the first time in a long time, I wanted to cry. The list read:

_**The Following Are Patients Eligible For St. Belavine's Hospital Trial:**_

_**Jolene Eleanor Vespucci **_

_**Caroline Kapera**_

_**Dominic Foster**_

_**Axyl Hale **_

_**Hugo Shanson **_

_**Sabina Naomi Goldberg **_

_**Janassera Lockheart**_

_**Tarquin Elios**_

_**Wesley Thomas O'Conner **_

_**Yuna Hogal **_

_**Finnegan Sharimkey **_

I stormed up to an MD, ignoring the searing pain and stiffness in my knee caps—arthritis is great. "Excuse me."

"You are excused."

I glared. "I have a question to ask."

"Of course you do."

I had to resist the overwhelming urge to slap the MD in the face and wipe his filthy and unworthy existence from this earth.

The MD never stopped for me, he kept moving, at a slow pace granted, but I struggled to keep up. "A patient can reject a trial, right?" I queried, slightly out of breath.

The MD nodded reluctantly, "Correct. But I don't see why they would—"

I slowed to a halt, my lips pulling down to form a frown. "So…it's not mandatory then?"

The MD shook his head no. I nodded in thanks and made my way back to the cancer ward's playroom. I settled myself down in a beanbag, enjoying the way it embraced by butt and melded to the shape of my body.

My mind was racing with thoughts that in turn made my heart beat faster with fear. If Finn was so adamant on not doing the trials just the night before, then what happened that changed his mind so quickly?

And then I began thinking about the other names listed on the Trials. Jolene was the snarky girl from the stroke ward. She had bells palsy, but that sure as hell didn't stop her from trashing the hospital's cafeteria when they cut chicken nuggets off the menu.

I didn't interact with her often, but when we did, once a week at the group therapy sessions in the Cancer play room, we sort of had these silent chats. When someone said something stupid in one of the sessions, we would share a quiet and muffled snicker. When we had free time, we would occupy ourselves by forming escape plans and murder schemes. We never carrier any of them out but…it's the thought that counted.

Janassera was a quirky girl with glasses that always hung on the tip of her nose and a kind smile always on her lips. Jan had been one of my good friends when I was in the Cancer Ward. She had a mild Cancer of sorts, hadn't she said that it was stage one? There was no way she was still in the hospital…

None of this made sense. Jolene's meds were finally starting to kick in—she hadn't had a stroke in months. She should have been due for release soon.

And Jan wasn't even that sick to begin with! She should have been released not too long after I last saw her 2 years ago.

Something was fishy, and it wasn't the putrid stench of Jenny's perfume. These Trials were supposed to help the kids in Intensive Care. And instead, they were plucking perfectly healthy patients out from their treatments. Very fishy indeed.

I urged my legs to work and ignored the aching feeling of my joints moving again. No amount of rehabilitation could have prepared me for this walk down the hospital hallway.

I had it all planned out in my head. I would sneak into the Trials Department and do some undercover work. I was going to pull a modern day James Fucking Bond. A wicked grin crossed over my lips and then—

I was yanked back into a dark oblivion.

* * *

So. The dark oblivion turned out to be a supply closet

A scream rose and lingered in my throat, but no matter how hard I tried, it wouldn't come out. I was face to face with Janassera Lockheart. Jan had changed all right—but she wasn't exactly the picture of health.

Her eyes were tinged a bright yellow and her incisors were sharpened, protruding from her pink gums that were exposed by Jan's lip that curled back as she growled. Small strands of thick brown hair stuck out from her chin. Was that….was that a goatee? No, it was too patchy for facial hair, too thick. This was…_fur_.

"J-jan?" I stuttered out, hoping she couldn't hear just how hard my heart was beating inside of my chest.

Jan rolled her yellow eyes and huffed. "Oh sure, a girl gets a pair of fangs and some peach fuzz and all of a sudden, she makes her friends pee their pants."

I looked down, frowning, "I didn't pee my—" I stopped, realizing again how monstrous Jan looked. "What…what happened to you?"

Her hand that had grabbed a fist full of my hospital scrubs now lightened. She let go of me and turned to look away wistfully. "Not what—_who_."

"The MD's did this to you?" I asked incredulously.

Another low rumble of a growl rose from Jan's throat. "Ha! Those idiots can't tell an onion from an avocado." She inspected her claws, both fascinated and disgusted by them at the same time. "They've got a special team assembled just for us. MD's from all over the world have come to witness the trials, but it's only one man performing the actual task."

My brows pulled together, "One guy? Who's the genius?"

Jan's furry features adopted a somber expression as she whispered, "Hubert Jigglesworth."

I couldn't contain my giggle. "I'm sorry, _HUBERT JIGGLESWORTH?!_"

Jan stared back in utter horror and answered very seriously. "Yes."

"…now that's just cruel."

The monster growled loudly, her incisors elongating, "What's cruel is what happened to me!"

I raised my hands to concede, "I know Jan, I know. But…hold on, Jigglesworth…why does that ring a bell?" I put a finger to my chin and racked my brain for the face behind the name.

"That's because he's founder of the Hospital." Jan explained.

I clapped my hands together, "Yes! Yes, that's it. But Jan, he's not a certified MD. He's just a rich balding fat man who donated a shit ton of money to a hospital."

Jan shook her head vigorously, "No, you're wrong, Scarlet. Everything you know or you thought you knew? Just forget it. We haven't got much time, they're bound to find me soon but I'd rather get back to my chamber before they find out I'm gone. You need to get out of here, Jigglesworth will get you—"

I couldn't help but snicker. "Sure, Jan."

Janassera gripped me by my shoulders and pushed me back into the supply closet's wall. "Listen to me! They're doing something to us. I saw Yuna turn into a fucking serpent! She had fins for god's sakes! And Jolene? She had fire in her palms. Green flames from her hands."

I blinked fast, "A-are they alright? How are Jo's burns?"

Jan shook her head. "I don't think you understand, Scarlet. The fire didn't attack Jo. She was the one wielding it." She sucked in a shaky breath, "We're turning into monsters, Scarlet. I don't know why you weren't picked for the trials—you're obviously one of the sickest, but I don't think that's why the trials were made. We're lab rats, Scar. Be glad you're not one of us."

But I wasn't glad. As much as I wanted to run away, I wanted to stay just as badly. These were my friends—no, my family. And I was nothing without my family. So I embraced Jan and resisted the urge to run my fingers through her fur and wished her well, assuring her that I would make a break for it as soon as the sun rose. We parted ways, but that would not be the last that I saw of Janassera the Werewolf.


End file.
